At Town Center Mall in Kennesaw, Georgia ('Two days without a hate crime!'), it has become impossible to navigate the hive of high-priced little shops without running into the manicurists. They are always young, thin, metrosexual men, and start out by stepping in front of you. When they ask if they could ask you a question, they are going for your hand. Once they're holding your right or left hand, they won't let it go. They've got 'nail refresher' and 'diamond-sharp nail buffs' and the 'Magical Nail-Rejuvenating Shroud of Karthalamar (+9 against cuticles)'. It all comes out to you being stuck listening to a sales pitch for several minutes while they've got your hand.
Once you've had a nail buffed, moisturized, and refreshed, they hit you with a price--last time it was around forty-five dollars for a buff and two bottles of lotion-y things. Want to try and refuse? The guy still has your hand! He's going to offer you a discount now--No?--wait, no, a bigger discount--he touches your shoulder, compliments, waves the little bottles, talks about the free carrying case--and is aghast at the fact that you don't want to pay thirty bucks and change (which went to Terry Pratchett's 'Thud' and some dinner, thank you) for his magical nail replenishing serum. But wait! He's still got your hand! Help! Mall Police! He begins to have a minor mental breakdown that may involve needing money for college. When you yank your hand away and run screaming toward the kindly nerds at EB games (the strength of their unplucked eyebrows and knowledge of the lost lore of Infocom is great), the manicurist will try to follow you.
Or, at least, he followed me. I suppose he couldn't understand that I wasn't disarmed enough by his femimasculine wiles to buy the crap.
Seriously, though, these guys are really pushy. Has anyone else run into them before? The T-mobile stand boys don't chase you all over the mall!